Case File: Organizational Anomalies

Entry 1: Tuesday, 09:14

First disappearance.
Marketing Analyst. Charming. Competent. Once told a joke in a meeting that actually landed.

Gone.

Desk untouched. Laptop humming. Chair performing a slow rotation like it’s trying to turn itself in for questioning.
Nobody reacts. When I ask where she is, people blink rapidly, like I’ve asked them to recall a childhood trauma or last quarter’s KPIs.

Suspicion: Collective selective memory. Or caffeine deficit. Or something worse.

Entry 2: Wednesday, 16:48

Three roles missing now.
All mid-level. All quietly inconvenient to lose.

My colleagues behave as if the org chart has always had holes in it. Like corporate Swiss cheese.
When I point at the gaps, people nod sympathetically and say things like “You know how it is” which, frankly, I do not.

Printer begins producing blank pages unprompted. Might be a cry for help.

Entry 3: Thursday, 22:11

Stayed late for surveillance.
I swear the building breathes when the floor is empty. HVAC claims innocence. I have doubts.

Found project room G unlocked.
Inside: living org chart projected on the wall with no hardware. Boxes pulsing. Titles rearranging themselves like puzzle pieces having a nervous breakdown.

One box turns red. Dissolves.
A corresponding empty desk appears in my mental map of the office.

I follow footprints in the carpet.
Long stride. Wrong weight distribution. Executed with the confidence of someone who has never had to fill out a timesheet.

Suspect: not human. Possibly middle management. Hard to tell these days.

Entry 4: Friday, 07:58

Entire Portfolio Management team gone. Twelve roles. No alarms. No Teams chatter. No farewell pastries.

There is a SharePoint post timestamped at 03:14 titled “Update.” The body is blank. Comments disabled. The true horror is that it still received seven likes.

Entry 5: Friday, 23:56

Saw it.
Entity resembles a business suit assembled from memory by someone who has only ever seen one from a distance. Tall. Corporate. Wrong.
Face is an empty badge holder swinging gently like a metronome for doomed careers.

Movement: glides. Or reorganizes the air. Hard to describe. Harder to forget.

It approaches a wall where the competency matrix used to be.
Touches it with bullet-point shaped appendages.
Somewhere behind me, another role disappears.
Checked system: “Operations Efficiency Support Specialist.” Removed cleanly, like a spreadsheet row deleted by a psychopath with editing rights.

It turns the badge holder toward me. I feel seen. Evaluated. Possibly pre-selected.

Entry 6: Saturday, 03:02

HR vanished tonight.
Entire department.
All phone numbers redirect to voicemail that says “This mailbox is no longer monitored.” No timeline. No explanation. No surprise.

In Teams, HR profiles show only stock silhouettes. When clicked, the app freezes and reopens itself in dark mode. Without asking.

This is the most efficient HR has ever been.

Entry 7: Sunday, time uncertain

My paper list of missing roles is gone. Desk drawer open. Lock bent in the wrong direction.

Entity must have taken it.
Or Finance. Both are equally capable of silent theft.

Hearing phantom typing from the open office. Distinct pattern: someone composing a performance review for someone who no longer exists.

Entry 8: Final Note

Current working theory:
The building is performing unapproved optimization.

Roles are being harvested for the greater good of efficiency or hunger. Hard to tell which.

Employees do not remember what was lost. Memory gets absorbed along with the jobs.
I suspect I am next. My job title has too many syllables. It is vulnerable.

If you find this report:

Avoid the office after 20:00.
Do not follow unexplained footprints.
If the printer starts printing your name, run.

Roles do not disappear.
They are devoured.

And something in this building is still hungry.